when i worked for hospice, i was called dawn of the dead. i have a comfort level with death, dying and cemetaries. i like to go there to gather my thoughts. the acres of burial markers remind me of thumbtacks on a giant map of lives that once were. i found my father-in-law's marker while i was there the other day and spoke his name out loud. there is something very powerful when the name of a person who has died is spoken out loud. all the thoughts and memories of that person and their life is remembered once again. a few days before he died, he said "i'm flying with my eyes closed."
are you still flying? i wonder.